“I’m not going anywhere.” He moved to sit with her, took her hand in his own and squeezed it gently.
“They’re saying they’ll issue death certificates soon, even if no bodies are found. I’ve tried calling our family lawyers, but there’s never any answer. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“We’ll work it out. I’ll try calling them again tomorrow.” He scratched his head as his eyes wandered over to the drink cabinet. The whisky bottle was calling him like a siren. He tried to ignore the craving; he didn’t want to encourage his mother to start drinking again. Not when she was sober for the first time in four days.
Still holding her hand tightly, he asked, “Has Daniel come down yet?”
“Consuela took him up some lunch, and she said he was quieter, but he still doesn’t want to see anybody.”
“I’ll check on him in a minute. He shouldn’t be alone.”
“He told me he doesn’t want his inheritance, that he doesn’t want anything of Leon’s.” Her voice broke as she said her dead husband’s name.
“He’s mourning his father. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” Richard closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine how he would feel if it was Steven who had died in the attack. The thought tore a hole in his heart. God only knew how Daniel was feeling.
“He’s going to own the majority of Maxwell Enterprises, so many people are going to be relying on him. I just know he’s going to crumble.” Caroline took her son’s face in her hands, pulling him closer so she could stare straight at him. “You know Leon bequeathe
d a share of the company to us, as well. You need to go in there and protect our interests. Leon would have wanted you to be in control, at least until Daniel is ready.”
“I’ve already spoken with the chief financial officer; we’ve decided to rent some office space uptown for now. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss interim arrangements.” He didn’t tell her he’d contacted his friend and tendered his resignation from a company he had yet to set up. Such details seemed unimportant at a time like this.
EARLY THE NEXT morning, before leaving to meet with the board of Maxwell Enterprises, Richard sat in his deceased step-father’s oak-paneled study and used his state-of-the-art computer to check his emails. It was the first time he had done so since September 10th, and he was surprised to see so many unread notes there. Scanning his eyes down the list of senders, he saw the majority of them were friends, possibly concerned for his safety, seeking reassurances that he was okay.
Near the bottom of the page, he saw the words “Hanna Vincent.” Just seeing the lines of her name kick-started something inside of him, like a small pilot light was being lit in the boiler of his soul.
From: [email protected]
Subject: You
Richard,
I hate that I have to write this email. I hate that I can’t be there for you, and that I can’t even contact you by phone. Everything about this situation is horrific, and I’m going crazy trying to imagine how you must be feeling right now.
I spent the day of September 11th with your family, and I was amazed not only by their fervent love and worry for you, but also for the support they showed me at a time when we were all at our lowest ebb. They adore you so much, and the relief we felt when we heard that both you and my father were safe was indescribable.
And yet, it was tinged with sadness as soon as we heard that your stepfather had died in the tragedy. I am sorrier than you can ever know. If you need a friend to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, I am here, day or night, just call.
You know that, right?
I love you, my friend. I wish I could be there to hug you right now, and as soon as I meet you next, please expect for the breath to be squeezed out of you by my puny arms. I’ll be that happy to see your ugly face.
Don’t worry about replying. I’m sure you have hundreds of emails like this from your female admirers.
Hanna x
From: [email protected]
Subject: You
Hanna,
Thank you for your words. At a time like this, what I crave is levity. There is so much going on here right now, not just in New York, but also in my own life, and knowing that normality still exists in the rest of the world, is somehow reassuring.
My father told me how much you did on that day, the way you looked after Ruby, and supported Nathan, despite your own fears. So I can categorically say that when you squeeze me, I shall be clasping you back much harder. May I suggest you practice your breathing techniques in the meantime?